Mikey's Favorite Thing
by lozzard-wellard
Summary: A short story based on Mikey and how he feels nervous about wriing a short essay on his favorite thing to do.


**This is a short story about Mikey's favorite thing and how much he was embarassed about it. I'm not very confident at Fanfic yet please comment and tell me what you think.**

* * *

'Alright kids, for your homework over the weekend, I want you to write a short essay about your favourite things to do outside of school!' said Miss Grotke to her class.

The entire class immediately started to chat to there next door neighbor about there favorite pastimes.

TJ said that he plays kickball with the gang. Ashley A said that she paints her nails and experiments with make-up. Gretchen said that she liked to test out her new inventions, or basically, anything scientific.

Mikey just sat there, in silence, hoping nobody would ask him what his favourite thing to do was. He thought about all the teases, the laughs and the name calling he might receive; he could never take any of it.

The school bell rang to indicate the end of the day. Mikey quickly left his desk and walked quickly out of the school building, hoping nobody would follow him and ask him about what he loved to do the most.

Mikey sat inside and began to start his essay. He grabbed a pencil from his draw, sharpened it, and then began to work his mind, and write.

'My favorite thing to do outside of school is…'

He paused. He took a deep breath.

'…ballet dancing.'

He stopped completely.

What was he doing? Even as he wrote the two words, all he could think about was the awkward silence, then the laughing and mocking. He couldn't do this.

He had to lie.

But how could he? Ballet dancing was the only thing that Mikey felt he was good at. He couldn't write about kickball, even though he played it, it still wasn't his favorite thing to do. He couldn't write about science or inventions, because Mikey felt he was no good at Gretchen's type of activities. And he CERTANLY couldn't say that he liked to test make up and paint his nails!

He chewed his pencil. How could he do this? Ballet dancing to others was so girly!

He crumpled up the paper, threw it in the bin and left his bedroom.

* * *

TJ Detweiler walked down the road, spotting Mikey sat on the edge of the pavement, looking sad.

"Hey Mikey, what's up?'

Mikey just mumbled. TJ sat beside him.

"Come on, you can tell me" TJ said, in a comforting way.

Mikey sighed; he found it hard confessing to his friend, even if he could trust TJ.

"It's this essay, I'm finding it hard to think of what my favorite thing to do is!" he explained.

"Well, why don't you write about kickball? You enjoy playing it!" TJ recommended.

"That's _your_ favorite thing to do, not mine. I can't write about something that's not my favorite past time!" he explained.

"Well, what is your favorite past time?" TJ asked.

Mikey's stomach began to churn. He began to feel hot and sick inside. Even if TJ was his friend, he didn't feel confident.

But he could see TJ's face, staring at him. He couldn't lie now, and even if he did, it would probably sound stupid.

"Listen TJ, your going to think that this is totally weird, but…"

"Yes Mikey?" TJ said, now feeling more interested.

Mikey swallowed. "….I like to ballet dance."

TJ looked blank. Mikey then regretted it. Why couldn't he have just lied? He could have lied in his essay too! But it was too late now; the cat had been let out of the bag.

"Wow Mikey! You're so brave!" TJ beamed at him.

"What?" Mikey was shocked. He expected TJ to start laughing, or mock him, but instead he was amazed.

"I've never known anyone else who has been that brave to express themselves for who they are!" TJ said, still not laughing or jeering.

Mikey was now the one who was looking blank.

"But TJ, don't you think it's weird? I mean, a boy into ballet? Don't u think it's more of a girls thing?" asked Mikey.

"No way, ballet is for anyone! That's so cool Mikey, how you can be able to pursue what you want to do and not be shy about it! Don't write anything different, I think you should go for it and write about what you love the most!" said TJ.

Mikey felt more confident. He began to feel happy at the thought of being able to pursue what he was good at without being mocked.

Once again he went to his bedroom, took out his pencil, and began to write his essay.

* * *

On Monday morning, Mikey came into class, with his essay in hand, prepared to tell his story.

However, as he sat through all the other essays, he began to feel more nervous. Most of the boys liked kickball, or cricket, or anything to do with running around getting muddy. This made him more nervous, and suddenly decided that writing about ballet wasn't a good idea.

"Mikey, would you please read your essay o the class?" Miss Grotke asked him.

He was prepared to say that he didn't want to read it out and screw it up, marking him a grade F.

But then he remembered what TJ said, about expressing your feelings and being yourself.

He got up, stood at the front of the classroom, and began to read.

"Most of you would think of me as the sort of boy who likes kickball, or softball, or making tree houses, and things like that. But some people are different than others, and prefer different things with more far-fetched aspects. That goes for me, for I have a passion for ballet dancing."

He'd said it. They had heard it. He looked around, the class was silent.

He decided to carry on, he couldn't run away now.

"Ballet dancing is my favorite thing to do, because it doesn't just involve dancing and molding your body into graceful shapes, it involves confidence, stability and believing in yourself, so that you know it is the thing you most enjoy, and the thing that you are comfortable with. I believe that if everyone would just express your feelings for the thing you love the most, then nobody would ever feel embarrassed by it, but feel proud of there achievements."

Mikey once again expected the laughter, and the mocking, but to his surprise, the class began to clap!

He looked up; they were all smiling at him! He began to smile too, knowing that it's wrong to feel ashamed of something you love, and he felt proud to finally be pursuing his talents knowing that he didn't need to hide it.


End file.
